Secret of the Underground Room

by John Bellairs

  Days dragged past. The professor labored on at the library, and the boys felt more and more useless. They had run out of things to see, so they just sat in the lounge of the boardinghouse and played chess. By now Johnny and Fergie were convinced that the professor would never find out anything, that they would never see Father Higgins again.

  One evening something odd happened.

  The boys met the professor outside the main door of the Bristol Library at five P.M., as they usually did. All three of them were hungry, so they went to the center of town to find a restaurant. When they were through eating, they decided to walk back to the boardinghouse. The easiest way was to climb the Christmas Steps, a winding stone staircase that led to the heights above the city. Halfway up the steps the professor paused to catch his breath on a stone landing where an old-fashioned streetlamp burned. As he stood panting, the boys looked around, and suddenly they froze. In a narrow, shadowy alley nearby a man was watching them. The light was poor, but the boys could see that the man was bearded, burly, and fairly tall. He wore a double-breasted navy-blue jacket.

  For several seconds the boys said nothing—they were too startled to speak. Finally Fergie found his voice.

  "Hey prof!" he exclaimed, tugging at the old man's sleeve. "There's somebody watchin' us in that alleyway there!"

  The professor whirled around and stared. There was no one there.

  "Byron," he said as he glowered at Fergie over the tops of his glasses, "have you been reading too many Hardy Boys adventures?"

  "I saw him too, professor," said Johnny timidly. "He really was there! Honest!"

  The professor snorted. "Well," he snapped, "it was probably some old bum, and he didn't have anything better to look at than the three of us. Now come on. We'd better keep climbing."

  The boys glanced at each other helplessly. When the professor was feeling stubborn, you couldn't make him see anything. They sighed and followed him up the steps.

  When they turned on the radio that night, the boys and the professor heard more reports about ghostly apparitions like the one that Johnny had seen days before. People all over the city had seen the hollow-cheeked floating faces, and panic was setting in. The Bristol Police Department was being flooded with phone calls. Local ghost experts gave the Bristol Post their opinions, which the professor felt were worthless. Psychiatrists said that it was a case of people infecting one another with fear. Everybody seemed to have a theory about what was happening, and this enraged the professor.

  "Why can't they all keep their traps shut or at least admit that they don't know anything?" he growled as he sat in the parlor one evening. "If all the so-called experts in the world were put on a barge and shoved out to sea, we'd all be better off!"

  Fergie and Johnny were sitting nearby eating cream cakes that they had bought at a local bakery.

  "Uh... prof?" said Fergie cautiously. "Have you figured out anything about those notes?"

  The professor glowered at Fergie over the top of his glasses. "If I had," he muttered, "don't you think I would have told you?" And giving his newspaper a shake, he went back to reading. For the time being he was not in a very conversational mood.

  The next evening the boys went out after dinner to look at the Clifton suspension bridge, which was a ten-minute walk from the boardinghouse. It was a beautiful old structure, built by the famous engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunei. The bridge leaps across a two-hundred-foot-deep chasm, and far down below the Avon River flows. When the boys got to the park near the bridge, they saw a breathtaking sight: The setting sun shone in between the heavy gray clouds, bathing the stone towers and swooping steel cables of the old bridge in golden light. Johnny and Fergie just stood staring in amazement. As the sun began to sink and the sky darkened, the boys turned to go home. When they got back to the boardinghouse, they saw that a light was on in the parlor on their floor. The professor had gone back to the library after dinner, but the light meant that he had returned.

  "I wonder what kind of mood he's in," muttered Johnny as he shoved the creaky iron gate open. "For the last couple of days he hasn't been much fun to live with."

  "No, he sure hasn't!" said Fergie with a shake of his head.

  When they opened the door of the parlor, they got a shock: The professor sat in an armchair smoking one of his smelly Balkan Sobranie cigarettes. And across from him, in another chair, sat the burly, bearded man who had been watching them from the alley the night before.

  "Good evening, boys!" said the professor, waving cheerfully. "I'd like you to meet my brother Humphrey, who is supposed to be dead."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Humphrey Childermass stood up, and the boys got their first good look at him. He was tall and broad, with ruddy cheeks and a grayish beard sprinkled with black hairs. The wrinkles around his eyes showed that he was an old man. In his teeth he clenched the stem of a briar pipe that sent forth curls of fragrant smoke.

  "Greetings, lads!" he boomed as he stepped forward to shake their hands. "As my charming brother has pointed out, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

  "He faked his death," said the professor tartly. "Apparently he decided that the world was getting to be too much for him, so he went into hiding. He has come back from the grave because he thinks he can help us. And in case you're wondering, he has developed his powers of ESP. That's how he knew what we were up to."

  Johnny and Fergie stared in amazement. They were too flabbergasted to speak.

  Humphrey motioned for the boys to sit down. He puffed at his pipe and looked thoughtfully out the window. Finally he spoke. "I know you boys will have trouble understanding this," he began, "but I have been interested in the case of the De Marisco Knights for a long time."

  "The who?" said Johnny and Fergie at the same time.

  Humphrey laughed. "The De Mariscos were a family of pirates and warriors who once owned the island of Lundy, which is in the mouth of the Bristol Channel, not far from here. They built a castle on the island and terrorized the people for miles around. They were ruthless and cunning men who thought that looting and killing were delightful things to do. Well, a few of them went a bit further than ordinary villainy. Six of them decided to sell their souls to the devil."

  Johnny was astonished. "Why... why would they do a thing like that?" he asked hesitantly.

  "For the usual reasons," the professor put in. "Power. They could become invisible and fly through the air. They could read your mind and possess your body and use it for awful purposes. As you might guess, these knights had to do some pretty nasty things to get these powers, but they wouldn't let anything stand in their way. They wanted to become superhuman beings. But during the Middle Ages, good people got together and decided to put an end to their activities."

  Fergie looked mystified. "How did they do that?"

  "No one is sure how it was done," answered Humphrey. "But according to the old stories, they were placed under a magic spell and trapped in an underground room with thick stone walls. Unfortunately one of the six knights got away. He died a natural death, but his spirit wandered the earth restlessly, waiting for a chance to set his fellow knights free. As far as I can figure out, the spirit is the thing that calls itself Dr. Rufus Masterman."

  Johnny and Fergie gasped. They looked at each other and wondered if Humphrey could possibly be telling the truth.

  "In case you're doubtful," the professor added, "Humphrey and I have put our information together, and we think we're right. The legends tell of a magic stained-glass circle that had something to do with the imprisonment of these knights. And they say that the knight who escaped was named Rufus."

  Johnny felt a chill, and he thought of the haggard face that he had seen outside his window. "Have... have the knights been turned loose in the world again?" he asked in a faltering voice.

  Humphrey shook his head firmly. "No. Not quite," he said. "Masterman must have gone to the place where they are buried in order to set their spirits free. That is why people have been
seeing strange things lately. However, the spirits of the knights are harmless without their bodies. They can only frighten. Right now I imagine that the evil Dr. Masterman is waiting for a chance to free the bodies of his long-dead friends from their tomb. And if he does that, horrible things will happen. A pack of vicious, merciless, bloodthirsty creatures will be turned loose on the world."

  Humphrey frowned grimly, and everyone was silent. After several minutes Fergie spoke up. He sounded skeptical.

  "Look, Mr. Childermass," he said, "if this Rufus Whatsisname can turn loose the spirits of his buddies, why can't he turn loose their bodies?"

  Humphrey shrugged. "I'm not sure why. Maybe Father Higgins is resisting him. Even though he's possessed, maybe he still has a mind of his own, sort of, and that mind may be fighting against doing something evil. Or maybe Masterman has to wait until a certain time to do his dirty work—magic has its rules, and they have to be followed. The important thing is that we still may have some time to stop something ghastly from happening. And here's what we have to do: We have to go to the isle of Lundy, find the room where these knights are trapped, and fix things so that they will never ever bother the world again."

  Johnny's eyes shone, and he began to get excited. Years ago he had read about Lundy in National Geographic. The island was about three miles long, and it had all sorts of odd rock formations as well as the ruins of an old castle. In the logo's a man named Harman had owned Lundy, and he had tried to make it a separate country with its own coins and stamps. In the midst of his thoughts, Johnny paused—something was puzzling him.

  "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "How come you think that's where the tomb of the knights is?"

  The professor smiled smugly. "Well, we're not absolutely sure," he said, "but that's where the knights came from. And Lundy is the solution to one of those notes. Remember bustard custard and drake cake? Well, how about puffin muffins?"

  "Puffin what?" asked Fergie. "What are you talkin' about?"

  Johnny knew. Suddenly he remembered that puffins nested all over the isle of Lundy. Puffins are large birds with bodies like ducks, big feathery ruffs around their faces, and enormous curved beaks. Harman had put puffins on the Lundy stamps and coins that he had issued. Patiently Johnny explained all this to Fergie, who looked at him as if he didn't believe one word he was saying.

  "Young John is correct," put in Humphrey with a kind smile. "In fact, in the old Norse language Lund Y means Puffin Island. There's always the possibility, I suppose, that we're going on a wild goose chase, but I don't think so, and neither does Roderick. I'm not exactly sure what we'll do when we find the tomb of the knights, but the riddles on those other scraps of paper may help us to figure that out. Are you boys ready for a short ocean voyage out to the mouth of the stormy Bristol Channel?"

  Fergie and Johnny looked at each other. They imagined themselves in a rowboat, being pitched about by mountainous waves. But they were not about to admit that they were scared, so they nodded and said that they wanted to go.

  "Fine!" said Humphrey, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. "And now I'd like to invite you all over to my house for dinner."

  As it turned out, Humphrey lived just on the other side of the Clifton suspension bridge. His house was made of yellowish stone with steep Gothic gables and fancy carved wooden decorations on the eaves. Tall brick chimneys rose above the trees that crowded about the house, and on the front porch were stacks of broken chairs. Inside, the house smelled of wood smoke and damp paper, and in the enormous living room logs crackled in the fireplace. A large threadbare Oriental rug covered the floor, and leather-covered chairs and couches stood grouped together. Steins and old tarnished silver trophies littered the mantelpiece and the built-in shelves of the walls, and piles of books could be seen in the shadowy corners of the room. Some of these books were very large and had ribbed vellum covers. Johnny wanted to know what was in them, but he was too shy to ask.

  Dinner was served at the kitchen table, and it was delicious. Cold roast beef and tongue, Stilton and Cheshire cheeses, homemade bread, fresh lettuce, and cherry tomatoes. For the boys there were Cokes, and for the two men Newcastle brown ale. On the table was a tiny pot of Coleman's mustard, and the boys soon found that a little of it went a long way. For dessert Humphrey served a sherry trifle that he had made himself: lots of little cubes of cake soaked in sherry and covered with fruit and whipped cream. After the meal Humphrey and the professor took their coffee into the living room, where they sat for hours, talking about old times. The boys went to the recreation room, which had two pinball machines, a pool table, and an oblong overhead light with green fringe around its shade. Fergie was a hotshot pool player, and Johnny knew he couldn't compete with him. But they played anyway and enjoyed themselves very much.

  Finally it was time to go. The professor and the boys bade Humphrey good-bye, and they walked down the path between the trees to the sidewalk that led to the bridge. Fog had drifted into the city, and eerie haloes hung around the streetlamps. As the three of them started across the bridge, a stiff wind began to blow. The old bridge groaned and creaked in the wind. By the time they got to the middle of the bridge, the wind had turned into a roaring gale, and the boys and the professor had to cling to the iron handrail as they inched forward.

  "My... this is... incredible," gasped the professor as he struggled along. "I don't think... we're going to make it to... the... "

  His voice was lost in the shrieking of the wind. Far ahead, on the other side of the bridge, a tall, gaunt figure could be seen standing under a streetlamp. It looked like a man in an overcoat and narrow-brimmed hat. Mists swirled about the figure, who now raised his hand and made a strange sign in the air. The wind began to blow harder. Johnny was slammed against the railing, which was only about chest high. He found that incredibly, he was being lifted up by unseen forces. A few minutes more and he would be hurled headlong two hundred feet to his death.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Slowly Johnny felt his body moving up the railing. He clung desperately to the iron bar, closed his eyes tight, and prayed. In his ears the wild wind boomed, and he was so frightened that he was afraid he would black out. How long could he hang on? Would he lose consciousness before he hit the stones that lay far below? But suddenly a loud voice rose above the howling storm:

  I wish the wind may cease to roar,

  No thrashing of the flood.

  By him that harrowed hell I swear

  And by the holy rood!

  The wind died, and Johnny slid gasping to the riveted iron walkway of the bridge. Stunned, he looked around and saw the professor and Fergie not far from him. They were kneeling with their hands over their faces, and both of them seemed to be sobbing. Walking toward them from the far end of the bridge was Humphrey. He strode briskly along, and as he went he hummed a jaunty little tune. When Humphrey got to the place where his brother was kneeling, he bent and helped him up. With a lot of sneezing and harrumphing, the professor pulled himself together. He didn't like to have people see him in a weepy state, so he tried to hide his feelings as well as he could. He was glad to be alive.

  "Goodness!" he exclaimed, mopping his face with his handkerchief. "I have never felt anything like that in my life! Another few seconds and—" He paused and glared accusingly at his brother. "Humphrey!" he roared. "You know magic spells! And you never told me!"

  Humphrey smiled modestly and bowed. "I never like to brag about my accomplishments," he said. "But I'm glad I was able to save you. A few seconds after you left the house, I sensed his presence, and I'm glad I came as fast as I did."

  "Presence?" growled the professor. "Presence? Whose presence?"

  Humphrey sighed and looked down toward the other end of the bridge, where a streetlamp burned quietly in the fog. "Masterman's," he said with a sour grimace. "I should have known that he would be capable of doing something like this. As long as he lives inside Father Higgins's body, he is a menace. Some of his ancient powers must have returned to him, and w
ho knows what he is capable of now? Luckily, I have a few little tricks of my own."

  "I'll say!" said Fergie, gazing admiringly at Humphrey. "I thought we were all goners!"

  "You very nearly were," said Humphrey gravely. "But see here! I think you had better come back and spend the night at my place. It's not absolutely one-hundred-percent safe, but it's a lot safer than your place. Master-man knows you're onto him, and he's afraid you'll mess up his plans. He'll be back—you can be sure of that. But for the time being our little duel may have scared him off. Come on. Let's go."

  No one needed to be persuaded. With grateful smiles the boys and the professor tramped back across the bridge to Humphrey's house, where Humphrey showed them all to their rooms. The huge oak beds were inviting, and in each room a portable electric heater was plugged into the wall. Johnny's heater had a plastic front made to look like heaps of coal, and behind the coals a red light flickered. In spite of the musty sheets, the room seemed warm and cozy, and Johnny fell asleep thinking about how Humphrey had stood on the bridge uttering words of power to drive the forces of darkness away.

  The next day was a very busy one. The professor paid their bill at the O'Triggers' house, and Humphrey found out about a small ferry that sailed between a town called Ilfracombe and the isle of Lundy. Then Humphrey packed a tent, a Coleman lamp, sleeping bags, and a portable stove, which he had used camping in Wales. He pointed out that these things might be necessary—Lundy had only forty people living on it, and there was only one small inn. Finally all the arrangements were made, and in the afternoon, Humphrey rolled his old, mud-spattered Bentley out of the garage. It was a windy day, with tattered clouds flying across the sky. A storm had been predicted, but Humphrey remained optimistic, and he whistled cheerfully as he helped the others load their equipment into the car. Johnny and Fergie climbed into the roomy backseat, and the two men got into the front. Soon they were on narrow back roads that ran between high stone walls or rows of hedges. Humphrey was just as terrifying a driver as the professor was, and the boys were hurled all over the backseat as the car careened around curves. The sky began to get darker and thunder rumbled in the distance. Trees and bushes thrashed in a wind that suddenly sprang up, and rain fell in big drops that splatted on the windshield. Soon the rain was falling in sheets, and the car slowed to a crawl. Humphrey turned on his headlights and began to bravely sing "The Three Fishers," an old song about some fishermen who got drowned in a storm at sea: